


All Our Troubles Will Be Out of Sight

by lamardeuse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: Unspeakably sentimental fluff I dashed off on Christmas because I wanted to.





	All Our Troubles Will Be Out of Sight

It was the mug that did it.

 

Up until that point, Merlin had convinced himself he'd been coping fairly well. After nearly fifteen centuries, he'd woken up one morning about six months ago with Arthur's voice in his head. Given that he'd long since accepted that he was at least half mad, it came as very little shock. That night, he reached what had once been the borders of the land of the Sidhe and found Arthur in the same boat he'd sent him off in, only this time the boat was in the middle of a field and Arthur was very much awake and alive.

 

There had been an – adjustment period after that, as Arthur had dealt with the passage of time and the loss of nearly everyone he'd held dear and Merlin had tried very hard to keep from having some kind of mental breakdown. When he'd allowed himself to imagine Arthur's return, Merlin had thought he'd be overjoyed, but in truth he found himself caught up in a tangled mess of emotion, as though he'd spent so many years feeling next to nothing that he'd decided to make up for lost time and feel everything at once. It was a bit terrifying, and trying to hide it from Arthur made it even worse. However, Merlin reasoned that Arthur needed some stability in his rather topsy-turvy life, and acting on his frequent impulses to scream, cry and laugh hysterically might upset that delicate balance.

 

Which perhaps inevitably led to tonight, when he found himself heaving great, wracking sobs at the sight of Arthur's Christmas gift, sitting freshly washed and upended on a tea towel beside the sink. Merlin had given it to him a few hours ago on Christmas Eve – a novelty mug from Clinton's that proclaimed the bearer as _The Man, The Myth, The Legend –_ and just as Merlin had hoped, Arthur had received it with a massive eye roll. However, he drank his evening pint of mead from it, and now for the first time, he had shockingly cleaned up after himself, and suddenly it was all too much.

 

In fifteen centuries of imagining this moment Merlin had never pictured him as anything but the man he had been. But with that small, simple gesture, Arthur had shown that he was beginning to change, to adapt to this new time, and that finally brought it home that Arthur was _real,_ that Merlin wouldn't wake up in the morning to find his spare room empty and no evidence that Arthur had ever been there.

 

“Here, now.” Merlin startled at the sound of Arthur's voice directly behind him and the feeling of strong, warm hands closing around his shoulders; he gulped a breath, trying to regain his equilibrium and failing.

 

“Merlin, Merlin,” Arthur said, his hands insistent now, and Merlin gave up hiding as a bad job and spun in the direction Arthur was urging, into Arthur's arms. Merlin clung to him for a minute or an hour – he wasn't precisely certain – but Arthur's shirt was embarrassingly damp when he finally mastered himself once more. Arthur held him firmly, rubbing soothing circles on his back and murmuring reassurances.

 

“I wondered when that would come,” Arthur said. “You've been on a knife's edge.”

 

Merlin sniffled loudly as he raised his head. “I don't think I entirely believed you were real until this moment. I was afraid to.”

 

“And here I thought you were fearless.”

 

Merlin snorted. “Hardly.”

 

Arthur waved a hand at the sink. “If it's any consolation, I think I was finally convinced I wasn't still asleep when you gave me that ridiculous bloody mug. It's certainly not anything I could have dreamed up by myself.”

 

Merlin barked a ragged laugh. “Listen, you could have done worse. They were all out of the ones that said 'I'm a prat' on the bottom.”

 

Arthur's jaw dropped in mock outrage. “You wouldn't have.”

 

Merlin grinned, the joy finally beginning to kick the other emotions to the kerb. “No, I suppose I wouldn't have.”

 

Arthur gazed at him for a long moment, then reached up and cradled Merlin's face, his thumb sweeping away the last of Merlin's tears. Merlin gasped, shocked and aroused both. He couldn't deny he'd been falling in love with Arthur all over again these past few months, despite trying to convince himself that it was as impossible as it had been the first time.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice rough, “did you ever –”

 

“I always did,” Merlin answered, because there was no need to hide any longer. “I always will.”

 

“I couldn't,” Arthur blurted, his hand sliding to the nape of Merlin's neck. “You understand why.”

 

“Yes,” Merlin said, nearly breathless now. “But you thought about it.”

 

“Only every other day or so,” Arthur said lightly, and they both laughed giddily until Merlin stepped forward and caught Arthur's mouth in a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merlin opened his eyes the next morning to see Arthur smiling down at him. “Happy Christmas,” Arthur murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss across Merlin's lips.

 

“It certainly is,” Merlin assured him, running a hand down Arthur's chest to his side. There was no longer any sign of the wound, but that didn't stop Merlin from occasionally searching for any trace of Mordred's evil act. If there was the slightest remnant of –

 

“I know what you're doing,” Arthur said against Merlin's mouth, making him jerk his hand away guiltily.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don't be. I can't begin to imagine what you went through after the battle and – for all those years, Merlin. All those centuries. I still can't believe you – ” He trailed off, leaning his forehead against Merlin's.

 

“Waited?” Arthur nodded. “Arthur, I would have waited forever.”

 

Arthur drew back, frowning. “I'm not worth that.”

 

“You are,” Merlin insisted. “Even more so now that you've learnt to clean up after yourself. You're a keeper.”

 

Arthur's eyebrow shot up and his mouth quirked. “I am, am I?”

 

“Definitely,” Merlin said. “And now that you're becoming a modern man, just so you know, Tuesday is bin day.”

 

Arthur didn't respond in kind to Merlin's teasing. Instead, he took one of Merlin's hands in his and lifted it to his lips.

 

“I would gladly undertake any menial labour as a token of my fealty for the remainder of our lives together, though it can barely begin to redress the sacrifices you have made for me,” Arthur said earnestly.

 

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin managed around a throat gone tight with emotion. “How on earth do you make an offer of toilet cleaning ridiculously romantic?”

 

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Hm. Well, on second thought I may have to draw the line at toilets.”

 

Merlin stared at him open-mouthed until Arthur burst out laughing. “Your _face_ ,” he wheezed.

 

Merlin shoved at him, rolling to his knees as he straddled a startled Arthur. For the first time in months, joy and desire were the only emotions fighting for space inside him as Arthur gazed up at him.

 

“Are you going to be a prat forever?” Merlin asked, leaning down, then stopping when his mouth was an inch or so from Arthur's.

 

Arthur's slow, knowing smile filled Merlin's vision. “At least a little, I expect,” he said, winding an arm around Merlin's neck. “Do you mind?”

 

Merlin pretended to give it some thought. “Not especially. And this way I already have next year's Christmas present sorted.”

 

“Which reminds me, I still haven't given you your present,” Arthur drawled, arching up into Merlin's roaming, greedy hands. “Do you want it now or later?”

 

“Now,” Merlin answered, “and later. And always.”

 

“Hm.” Arthur buried his hand in Merlin's hair and kissed him thoroughly. “Being a modern man might not be so bad after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Clinton's actually sells a tankard with "The Man, The Myth, The Legend" on it. I reckoned the mug wasn't too far-fetched.


End file.
